Bye!

 

I Hear You're a Nazi Sympathiser Now David

 

Delighted to be back in Washington DC, supporting @Keir_Starmer.

There is no relationship closer than that of the UK and the US. Together we will continue to do great things for our shared security and growth.

Thank you @POTUS, @JDVance for your gracious hospitality. pic.twitter.com/MJa2B90IfB

— David Lammy (@DavidLammy) February 27, 2025

Parliament’s Portrait Purge: Nelson Sunk, Cooper Hoisted

In a move that can only be described as a masterclass in historical tone-deafness, Parliament’s Estate Management Committee has decided that the hallowed halls of British democracy are better adorned with the visage of Yvette Cooper than the steely gaze of Horatio Nelson. 

 

Yes, you read that correctly: the one-eyed naval titan who smashed Napoleon’s dreams at Trafalgar has been swapped out for a career politician whose most daring battle appears to have been against the Home Office photocopier. If this isn’t a sign that Britain’s sense of self has capsized, then someone needs to check the hull for leaks.

 

Let’s set the scene. Nelson, a man who gave his life—quite literally—to secure Britain’s place as a global power, has been relegated to the storage cupboard. His crime? Apparently, being too heroic, too iconic, too… inconveniently great. Meanwhile, Yvette Cooper, a woman whose chief claim to fame is a CV stacked with ministerial reshuffles and a knack for surviving Labour Party purges, now stares down from the walls where giants once stood. It’s as if the committee decided that the best way to inspire the nation is to replace a cannonball with a memo pad.

 

What’s next? Are we to see Churchill’s bulldog scowl swapped for Ed Miliband’s awkward bacon-sandwich grin? Perhaps a tasteful oil painting of Liz Truss’s 49-day premiership will grace the Commons tea room, complete with a lettuce garnish. The Estate Management Committee seems hell-bent on proving that mediocrity is the new gold standard, and they’re redecorating accordingly.

 

This isn’t just an aesthetic misstep—it’s a cultural gut punch. Nelson’s victories didn’t just shape Britain’s past; they forged its identity. He was a flawed, brilliant colossus who stared down impossible odds and won. Yvette Cooper, for all her plodding competence, has never once set foot on a burning deck, let alone saved a nation from tyranny. To equate the two isn’t just a stretch—it’s a snapping of the historical spine that holds this country upright.

 

And who’s behind this travesty? The Estate Management Committee, a shadowy cabal of clipboard-wielders who clearly fancy themselves as curators of a brave new Britain—one where beige triumphs over brilliance. Did they consult anyone? Did they pause to consider that plastering the walls with second-tier apparatchiks might not stir the soul quite like a portrait of a man who bled for his country? 

 

Evidently not. They’ve gone full steam ahead, and the result is a gallery of non-entities that screams “focus group” louder than “legacy.”

 

The irony is thick enough to choke on. Parliament, the very institution that Nelson’s victories helped secure, now deems him surplus to requirements. Meanwhile, Cooper—a politician whose most memorable moment might be a sternly worded press release—gets the gilt frame treatment. It’s not just a snub to history; it’s a snub to anyone who thinks greatness deserves a nod over mere longevity.

 

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about Yvette Cooper personally. She’s a symptom, not the disease. The real rot lies with a committee that’s traded reverence for relevance, legacy for optics. They’ve turned Parliament into a revolving door of forgettable faces, a shrine to the here-and-now where the past is just an inconvenience to be painted over. 

 

If they had their way, the Magna Carta would probably be replaced with a laminated diversity statement.

 

So here we are, watching Britain’s heritage get sanded down to fit the sensibilities of a faceless bureaucracy. Nelson’s portrait didn’t just represent a man—it represented a nation that dared to be extraordinary. By ditching it for the likes of Cooper, the Estate Management Committee has made their message clear: we’re not that nation anymore. And frankly, that’s an insult sharper than any French broadside.

Starmer’s Defence Spending Deception: A Masterclass in Creative Accounting

Prime Minister Keir Starmer strode into the House of Commons on February 25, 2025, with the swagger of a man who thought he could pull the wool over the nation’s eyes. In a grand announcement, he pledged to boost UK defence spending to 2.5% of GDP by 2027, trumpeting an eye-watering £13.4 billion annual increase starting that year. 

 

It was a figure designed to dazzle, to signal resolve ahead of his White House meeting with President Donald Trump, and to placate a public and military increasingly jittery about Britain’s security posture. But peel back the layers of this shiny promise, and what emerges is a tapestry of half-truths, inflated figures, and outright misdirection that should leave every taxpayer—and every soldier—fuming.

 

Let’s start with the headline number: £13.4 billion. 

 

It sounds impressive, doesn’t it? 

 

A hefty injection of cash to bolster Britain’s armed forces in what Starmer calls a “dangerous new era.” But the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS), a bastion of economic clarity, swiftly called foul. Strip out inflation and account for the fact that defence spending was never going to stay frozen in nominal terms, and the real increase shrinks to a far less glamorous £6 billion annually by 2027. 

 

That’s right—less than half of what Starmer boasted about from the dispatch box. The £13.4 billion figure assumes a bizarre counterfactual where defence spending wouldn’t have risen at all without his intervention, a scenario so detached from reality it’s laughable. This isn’t a boost; it’s a sleight of hand, a classic case of a politician juicing the numbers to look tougher than he is.

 

But Starmer didn’t stop there. To pad out his 2.5% of GDP target, he’s quietly redefined what counts as “defence spending.” For the first time, contributions from MI6 and the security services—previously excluded—are being rolled into the pot. This accounting trick bumps the figure up to 2.6% by 2027, a convenient little flourish that lets him claim extra credit without actually finding new money for tanks, ships, or troops. It’s the equivalent of a student claiming extra credit for homework they were already doing—except here, the stakes are national security, not a gold star.

 

And then there’s the Chagos Islands deal, the cherry on this cake of deception. Starmer’s government is reportedly shelling out £18 billion to Mauritius to cede sovereignty over the archipelago while leasing back the Diego Garcia military base for 99 years. This is a staggering sum, dwarfing the supposed £6 billion “increase” in real defence spending. 

 

Yet whispers persist—unconfirmed but suspiciously plausible—that these payments might be folded into the defence budget to artificially inflate the numbers. If true, this isn’t just creative accounting; it’s borderline scandalous. The Chagos deal, already a contentious surrender of British territory, could end up eating the entire real-terms defence uplift and then some, leaving the actual armed forces no better off—or worse. Instead of strengthening Britain’s military, Starmer might be funnelling billions into a diplomatic giveaway, all while dressing it up as a commitment to security.

 

Even if we take the 2.5% target at face value, it’s a pitiful offering. Britain’s current spending sits at 2.3% of GDP, so this much-vaunted increase amounts to a measly 0.2% bump over two years. In a world where threats are escalating—Russia’s war in Ukraine, China’s sabre-rattling, and an unpredictable Middle East—this is a drop in the bucket. Military chiefs have been clamouring for far more, with former British Army head Lord Richard Dannatt arguing for 3.4% to match US levels. 

 

And then there’s Trump, the man Starmer is so keen to impress. The US President has repeatedly demanded NATO allies spend 5% of GDP on defence, a threshold last seen during the Cold War. Against that yardstick, Starmer’s 2.5% by 2027 isn’t just too little; it’s too late. Trump, a man not known for subtlety, is likely to scoff at this timid gesture when they meet, seeing it for the window dressing it is.

 

The insult is compounded by how Starmer plans to fund this so-called boost: slashing the foreign aid budget from 0.5% to 0.3% of national income. That’s a £6 billion cut, conveniently matching the real-terms defence increase—a neat little swap that exposes the lie of any grand “generational response.” Starmer’s not finding new money; he’s just shuffling it around, robbing Peter to pay Paul, all while claiming a victory he hasn’t earned. Labour backbenchers and charities have decried this as shortsighted, a betrayal of Britain’s global humanitarian role. They’re right, but the real betrayal is to the public, fed a narrative of strength that crumbles under scrutiny.

 

Starmer’s defenders might argue he’s making tough choices in tough times. But tough choices don’t justify dishonesty. He stood before Parliament and the nation, peddling a £13.4 billion figure he knew—or should have known—was inflated, banking on the fact that most wouldn’t check the maths. His own Defence Secretary, John Healey, squirmed on BBC Breakfast the next day, reluctantly conceding the IFS’s £6 billion estimate was closer to the mark. The Prime Minister’s credibility shouldn’t hinge on such flimsy spin, especially on an issue as grave as defence.

 

This isn’t leadership; it’s legerdemain. Britain deserves a PM who levels with the public, not one who cooks the books to impress a foreign leader who’ll see through the ruse in seconds. Starmer’s 2.5% pledge is too little, too late, and too dishonest to stand as the “biggest sustained increase since the Cold War” he claims. The armed forces won’t be cheering—they’ll be crying. And Trump? He’ll probably just laugh.

Ed Miliband’s Net Zero Delusion: A Self-Inflicted Wound Bleeding Britain Dry

 

Today, February 25, 2025, Britain wakes to yet another gut punch: Ofgem has hiked the energy price cap by £111 annually, pushing the typical household bill to £1,849 from April. For businesses, the sting is even sharper, with industrial electricity costs already the highest in the developed world—four times those in China, according to industry analysts. 

This isn’t a blip; it’s a slow-motion catastrophe orchestrated by Energy Secretary Ed Miliband, a complicit Ofgem, and their shared obsession with a Net Zero fantasy that’s torching the UK economy and our industrial backbone. The damage is self-inflicted, the solutions are ignored, and the costs—both financial and environmental—are staggering.

 

The Price Tag of Madness

Let’s start with the numbers. For the average household, £1,849 a year is a 50% leap from pre-Ukraine war levels, with forecasts suggesting another £85-100 rise by spring, courtesy of Cornwall Insight and government insiders. That’s £750 more than in 2022—an extra burden Miliband promised to ease during Labour’s campaign, only to deliver the opposite. 

 

For industry, the picture is bleaker. Electricity prices for UK businesses hit 25-30p per kilowatt-hour in 2024, dwarfing the 6-8p in the US or China. Steelworks, chemical plants, and manufacturers—once the pride of Britain’s industrial might—are buckling under costs that make them uncompetitive globally. Tata Steel’s looming closure of Port Talbot and Vauxhall’s shuttered Luton plant are just the latest casualties.

 

This isn’t a global crisis we’re helplessly caught in; it’s a British own-goal. Miliband blames “surging gas prices” and “petrostates,” but gas futures have dipped 10% since January. The real culprit? Net Zero levies—subsidies for wind, solar, and other renewables—piled onto bills via schemes like Contracts for Difference. Miliband’s own department admits these “drive up retail electricity prices,” yet he doubles down, claiming clean energy will “lower bills.” Tell that to the 22 million households and countless firms staring at bankruptcy.

 

The Highest Energy Prices in the World

Britain now boasts the dubious honour of the world’s priciest electricity for industry—a crown won not by accident but by policy. While the US drills for “liquid gold” under Trump and China powers its factories with coal, the UK shackles itself to renewables that can’t deliver when the wind doesn’t blow or the sun doesn’t shine. Last year, we paid £270 million to Chinese-backed wind farms to switch off because the grid couldn’t handle their output. Meanwhile, our steel industry gasps its last breaths, our chemical sector fades, and AI firms—vital for future growth—eye relocation to energy-rich Georgia, USA, where 20 gigawatts of new demand is being met head-on, not stifled by green dogma.

 

A Crippled Economy and Industrial Base

The economic fallout is brutal. De-industrialisation isn’t a theory—it’s happening. Jobs vanish, investment flees, and emissions simply shift overseas, mocking Net Zero’s supposed environmental gains. Ineos boss Jim Ratcliffe warned in January that “chemical manufacture has the life squeezed out of it” by these prices. The Treasury loses £30 billion in potential revenue from stalled North Sea projects like Rosebank, blocked by Miliband’s ideological veto despite Starmer’s alleged assurances to Norway’s Equinor. Growth? Forget it. Reeves might whisper about abandoning Net Zero for economic sanity, but Miliband’s zeal drowns her out.

Self-Inflicted Wounds

 

This is all avoidable. Britain sits on untapped North Sea oil and gas—enough to ease supply pressures and slash import costs. Rosebank alone could yield 300-500 million barrels of oil, covering 7% of UK production over its lifetime. Using it would cut shipping emissions from LNG tankers crisscrossing the Atlantic and Pacific, a dirty irony Miliband ignores. Instead, we spurn our own resources, hike taxes on a dying offshore sector, and lean on Chinese tech—solar panels and EV batteries—tainted by coal-fired plants and slave labour. Miliband’s “energy independence” is a farce when it swaps Putin’s gas for Xi’s renewables.

 

Ofgem: A Toothless Puppet, Not a Watchdog

Ofgem, meant to protect consumers, is no independent arbiter—it’s a Net Zero cheerleader. Its “Consumer Interest Framework” prioritises a “low-cost transition to Net Zero” over affordable bills, a mandate Miliband exploits to push his sprint to decarbonise the grid by 2030. Today’s price cap hike proves it: rather than challenge the renewable levy burden or force suppliers to absorb costs, Ofgem rubber-stamps rises and parrots green rhetoric. Miliband’s urgent letter to its CEO, Jonathan Brearley, demanding “faster mitigations” is theatre—Ofgem’s too busy redesigning regulations for a utopian grid to care about today’s pain.

 

The Real Fix: Ditch the Delusion

Energy prices would fall if we drilled our own oil and gas, not shipped it in. The Climate Change Committee admits we’ll need fossil fuels even post-2050 Net Zero—why not use what’s under our feet? It’s cheaper, cleaner than imports, and keeps cash in the UK, not Beijing or Qatar. Instead, Miliband bets on wind and solar, propped up by Chinese tech we can’t control and grids that can’t cope. Global emissions won’t budge—China’s coal plants and Trump’s drilling dwarf our cuts—but Britain’s economy will crater.

 

The Verdict

Ed Miliband’s Net Zero crusade, abetted by a spineless Ofgem, is a masterclass in delusion. It’s driving up costs for families and firms, gutting our industrial base, and chaining us to foreign powers—all while pretending it’s for the planet. Today’s price hike isn’t a surprise; it’s a symptom of a policy that’s not just failing but actively harming us. Time to wake up, ditch the green fairy tale, and start powering Britain with reality.

By- election Alert!

 

Mike Amesbury has been sentenced to 10 weeks in prison at the Chester Magistrates’ Court after pleading guilty to assault by beating.

This means there will be a by-election in Runcorn and Helsby.

Starmer Tells Cabinet Not To Look Down on People

 

As per GB News Starmer wrote to the Cabinet about the party patronising working people:

"What started with good faith paternalism has too readily become looking down at people."

It beggars belief that a Labour PM has to tell a Labour cabinet not to look down on working people!

Starmer: The Wrong Man in the Wrong Job at the Wrong Time to Handle Trump on Ukraine

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As the war in Ukraine grinds into its thousandth day and Donald Trump’s re-ascendance to the White House looms large,Starmer, finds himself at a pivotal crossroads. Tasked with navigating an increasingly volatile transatlantic relationship and securing a stable future for Ukraine, Starmer’s leadership is under scrutiny. Yet, a closer examination of his personal traits, political instincts, and strategic missteps reveals a troubling reality: Starmer is the wrong man, in the wrong job, at precisely the wrong time to handle Trump and the Ukraine crisis effectively.

 

A Question of Empathy and Personality

Leadership in times of geopolitical upheaval demands not just intellect but charisma, emotional intelligence, and an ability to connect with unpredictable counterparts like Donald Trump. Starmer, however, is often described as wooden, technocratic, and lacking the personal dynamism needed to sway a figure known for his bombast and deal-making flair. Critics have long pointed to his stiff demeanour—evident in his measured speeches and reluctance to engage in the theatricality of modern politics—as a liability. Where Trump thrives on brashness and gut instinct, Starmer’s reserved style risks leaving him outmanoeuvred in face-to-face negotiations.

 

Some have speculated that Starmer’s interpersonal challenges might stem from a neurodivergent condition, such as autism, which could explain his perceived lack of empathy and discomfort in unscripted settings. While there is no public evidence to confirm this, his meticulous, legalistic approach—honed during his years as Director of Public Prosecutions—lends credence to the idea that he prioritises process over people. In dealing with Trump, a man who famously values loyalty and personal rapport over policy details, this could prove disastrous. Trump’s recent attacks on Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, branding him a “dictator,” underscore the need for a UK leader who can bridge emotional divides and counter Trump’s narrative with persuasive force—qualities Starmer struggles to muster.

 

Slow Decision-Making in a Fast-Moving Crisis

The Ukraine conflict, now entangled with Trump’s unilateral peace overtures, demands rapid, decisive action. Starmer’s track record, however, suggests a propensity for deliberation that borders on paralysis. His handling of domestic issues—like the contentious decision to cut winter fuel payments for pensioners—reveals a leader who often backtracks or delays under pressure, only acting after internal party revolts or public outcry force his hand. This hesitancy is ill-suited to the breakneck pace of Trump’s foreign policy, where decisions—like his reported plans to sideline European leaders in Ukraine peace talks—are made swiftly and without consultation.

 

Starmer’s proposal for a European-led “reassurance force” of fewer than 30,000 troops to monitor a potential Ukraine ceasefire exemplifies this sluggishness. Unveiled ahead of his Washington visit on February 20, 2025, the plan lacks clarity on objectives and has failed to unify European allies, with nations like Poland and Sweden demanding more detail before committing. In contrast, Trump’s team, led by envoy Keith Kellogg, has already dismissed European involvement as “unrealistic,” signalling a preference for bilateral talks with Russia. Starmer’s inability to anticipate this rebuff and adapt quickly leaves the UK—and Europe—scrambling to catch up.

 

Left-Wing Leanings in a Populist Age

Starmer’s political roots, despite his efforts to project a centrist image, remain tied to the progressive wing of the Labour Party. His early career defending human rights and his initial leadership pledges—later abandoned—aligned him with left-wing ideals that clash with Trump’s “America First” populism. This ideological divide is more than academic; it shapes Starmer’s worldview and his approach to Ukraine. Where Trump sees the conflict as a European burden to offload, Starmer clings to a multilateral vision rooted in NATO solidarity and collective responsibility—a stance that risks alienating a US president who views such frameworks with suspicion.

 

This left-leaning lens also fuels Starmer’s reliance on international law and institutions, a cornerstone of his career as a barrister. His impassioned UN Security Council speech in September 2024, condemning Russia’s violation of the UN Charter, reflects this faith in legal norms. Yet, in the Trump era, where power politics trumps treaties and international law is dismissed as irrelevant, this approach is woefully out of step. Trump’s ghastly warmth toward Vladimir Putin and his readiness to broker a Ukraine deal without European input signal a world where raw leverage, not legal arguments, dictates outcomes. Starmer’s insistence on playing by the rules of a system Trump ignores leaves him ill-equipped to influence the US president’s calculus.

 

A Misreading of America and Trump

Perhaps Starmer’s greatest failing is his apparent lack of understanding of the United States and its mercurial leader. Despite a brief dinner with Trump in New York in September 2024—which Starmer described as “constructive”—there’s little evidence he grasps the cultural and political forces driving Trump’s agenda. 

 

The UK’s “special relationship” with the US has historically thrived on personal chemistry, from Churchill and Roosevelt to Thatcher and Reagan. Starmer, however, lacks the instinctive feel for American sensibilities that his predecessors leveraged. His comparison of the Conservative Party to Trump in 2023—decrying their “divide, divide, divide” tactics—suggests a superficial reading of Trump as a mere partisan figure, rather than a disruptor of global norms.

 

This misjudgment is evident in Starmer’s Ukraine strategy. His push for a US “backstop” to bolster European troops—likely involving air support and intelligence rather than combat forces—assumes Trump can be persuaded to commit resources to a conflict he’s publicly distanced himself from. Yet Trump’s Truth Social tirades, accusing Zelensky of dragging the US into a $350 billion “unwinnable war,” reveal a leader intent on disengagement, not collaboration. Starmer’s failure to anticipate this isolationist streak—or to craft a Plan B—underscores his disconnect from the American political psyche.

 

The Stakes for Ukraine and Beyond

The consequences of Starmer’s mismatch with this moment extend far beyond personal failings. Ukraine’s future hangs in the balance as Trump’s team engages Russia in talks that could freeze the conflict on terms favourable to Moscow. Starmer’s sidelined peacekeeping plan, met with scepticism by European allies and outright rejection by Trump’s envoy, risks leaving the UK—and Europe—marginalised. Worse, his inability to sway Trump could embolden Putin, signalling that Western resolve is fracturing at a critical juncture.

 

In an ideal world, the UK would have a leader with the agility, empathy, and transatlantic savvy to counter Trump’s whims and secure Ukraine’s sovereignty. Starmer, with his legalistic rigidity, slow-footed decision-making, and left-wing instincts, is not that leader. As he heads to Washington on February 20, 2025, the stakes could not be higher—nor the odds of success more daunting. For Britain, for Europe, and for Ukraine, the wrong man in the wrong job at the wrong time could prove a costly misstep in an already perilous era.